“Maybe we should have planned it out better,” Eve said, looking at me.
Part of me liked that they saw me as the clear leader of the project, but I also didn’t want the responsibility if it failed. Sometimes responsibility and burden felt like the same thing.
After a few more presentations, Cara and Maggie presented their project, and it was like the whole class was sprinkled with wide-awake dust. Cara started by playing some heavy-beat music as four girls—who were not officially on the project—walked across the stage like it was a catwalk, each wearing one of those dumb silk scarves in different ways. The guys cheered for the pretty girls and the girls watched, riveted, probably dreaming of a life as a model. How boring.
“Fashion should be fun!” Cara announced into the microphone. At this, the model girls all took off their respective scarves, handed it to the next girl, and put it on a different way. The girls of our class cheered as if Cara had just performed heart surgery. Even Ms. Carter was clapping—wasn’t she supposed to be impartial?
“Thanks to everyone who has stopped by Fashion Fixin’!” Cara cheered. You’d think she was running a political campaign or something the way she was going on, so eager to please everyone.
When she finished giving her report, she walked back to her seat, but not before muttering in our direction, “That’s how it’s done.”
When we were mercifully dismissed, all I could think about was coming up with new ideas, new posts, new advice—more, more, more, now, now, now. I had pushed through the cluster of students to get out of the theater, but Eve grabbed my hand to slow me down.
“Hey, Mickey,” she said as we made our way out into the hall. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, why?”
“Well,” she said, shouldering her way around people as we passed. “You just seemed a little… aggressive today. Onstage.”
“I did?” I asked.
“I mean, it’s fine, you did a great job,” she said. “It just felt like you thought you were up there on your own. Or, like, you wished you were up there alone. Know what I mean?”
I slowed my step slightly. “I did talk over you once, didn’t I?”
“Or twice,” she said, but she smiled. “It’s okay. But you can just, you know, calm down a bit. The project is going great and everything will be fine.”
“I know,” I said. “But you know how much this means to me. Hair is my life!”
She smiled again and said, “We all know. I’ll see you at lunch.”
Between then and lunch, all I could think about were Cara, her presentation, her challenge that she knew better than us, and what else we could do. I’d thought of the stylists at Hello, Gorgeous! as resources for answers to reader questions, but I hadn’t thought that they could give advice directly to our readers. By the time we all met up again at lunch, I had written down a few ideas that could make DIY Do’s so much better. I couldn’t believe I hadn’t thought of them before.
“So, you guys,” I said as everyone settled in at our lunch table. “I have some new ideas that I think would be awesome for our site. Do you want to talk about them now?”
“I’d rather choke down this chili,” Kristen said. “And it’s gray. Chili isn’t supposed to be gray.”
“Come on,” I said. It took so much energy trying to rally the girls around this project.
“The project is due at the end of the week,” Eve pointed out.
“Exactly,” I agreed. “Which means we don’t have much time left.”
“No, which means that what we’re doing is fine,” Lizbeth said. “We don’t have to keep adding new things.”
“We only have the week left to be the best group in our class,” I said, ignoring their resistance. “Don’t you want a day off from packed lunches and gray chili?”
Kristen let a sporkful plop back into the Styrofoam bowl. I took that as a yes.
“We can meet after school and go over some new ideas—I’ll even spring for cookies at CJ’s. I was thinking about doing a Q and A with some of the stylists to talk about how they got their start and what their all-time best hair advice is. Wouldn’t that be fun? Maybe we can even do it on video.”
“We talk about this, like, every day,” Kristen sighed. “Can’t we just e-mail our suggestions to each other?”
“Come on, you guys,” I said. “I can’t do it all on my own.”
“You don’t have to,” Lizbeth said. “But this isn’t a full-time job. It’s not even a real Web site.”
“Yeah,” Eve agreed. “It’s not like it matters.”
I swear I could feel my heart stop. Didn’t matter? After all the work I’d done, how could she say that? Eve knew exactly how much this meant to me. She’d even said so right after the presentation.
“I didn’t mean it like that,” Eve said, seeing my expression. Kristen and Lizbeth watched closely but didn’t make a move to say anything. “Really, I didn’t, Mickey. I’m sorry it came out like that.”
“It’s fine,” I said, finding my voice. I opened my untouched lunch—wondering how I would choke it down with my stomach flip-flopping with frustration and worry. “Not a big deal.” I could feel their eyes on me but no one said anything. I couldn’t even look at them. “I’m still going to do some work on it—if you guys don’t mind.”
“Why don’t we all e-mail one idea to each other tonight,” Lizbeth said. “That’ll give us new content for the rest of the week.”
“Really?” I asked.
I watched as Kristen cut her eyes at Lizbeth. She clearly didn’t want to, but Lizbeth said, “Of course. We’re all in this together. Right, girls?”
“Right,” Eve said.
“Yeah, all together,” Kristen agreed.
I decided to be satisfied by this. It was something. If we got the site going really strong by the time the project was due, not only could we beat Cara and Maggie, but then I could even think about keeping it up and running by myself.
Now that was what they called a win-win.
CHAPTER 18
“Hey, you,” Kyle said the next day in the hall. “Where’ve you been? I never see you anymore.”
“I just saw you yesterday!” I said, nudging his shoulder.
“Do you realize that we actually sat next to each other at lunch and we didn’t say one single thing to each other?”
I thought of yesterday at lunch when the girls and I had our little blog talk. When I thought of it, I realized I didn’t see Kyle anywhere in the picture in my mind. That was not a good thing. I started to think that maybe I was turning into a bad girlfriend. I made a promise to be so much better to Kyle as soon as this project was all done, if not sooner.
“We still saw each other,” I teased. When he didn’t smile right away, I felt bad. I took his hand in mine and said, “Hey, I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be all absentee.”
“You’re like a weekend parent, but my weekday girl.”
“As long as I still get to be your girl,” I said. “But I’ll stop being so scattered. The online project is all I can think about lately.”
We stood in front of his history class and I waited for him to say more.
“Except you, of course,” I added.
“Of course,” he said, but gave me a smile. I squeezed his hand to let him know that I was there—present in his life.
“Listen,” he said, turning back to me. “Do you want to hang out tomorrow? We could go to the park or maybe even play video games or something.”
“I can’t tomorrow,” I said, feeling disappointed. I did want to hang out with him, but so much was going on. “How about today?”
“Can’t,” he said. “I have a doctor’s appointment after school.”
“Well,” I said, thinking. “Maybe we can hang out tomorrow after work and before I have to be home for dinner. Even if it’s just for a little while.”
“Okay,” he said. But I could tell he was a little frustrated still. “Let’s pick a time now. Want to say six? We can meet at Warpa
th to play video games.”
“Perfect, six at Warpath,” I said.
Once that was settled, I turned my attention back to hair.
The thing about hair is, it’s the easiest way to be fashionable and look your best. Sure, you can buy a super-in-style outfit, something right out of the pages of W magazine, but that only gets you through one day. And everyone knows that the more head-turning an outfit, the fewer times you’ll be able to wear it. Otherwise it’s like, “There’s Mickey, wearing her asymmetrical black, white, and yellow dress again.” It might turn heads the first time, but by the third it’s old news and everyone starts to wonder if you have any other cool clothes.
Not so with hair. Hair is a part of everyone’s every day (unless you’re bald), so you can mix it up easily to be casual, dressy, lazy… whatever you feel like! And it doesn’t take much money. One good cut and a few tricks and tools and you can look like you’ve paid huge money for a top stylist every day.
I decided we needed more of that on DIY Do’s—more real-life advice. We had to make sure we stayed true to our roots of being a do-it-yourself site.
After school, I went up to my room and looked through the new questions that had been sent to us.
Any advice on coloring my hair at home?
I put that in the “Ask Violet” pile immediately, since I’d had a bit of a disaster dying Eve’s hair not long ago. Better to just get the expert’s opinion.
I’m thinking of going short. Any drawbacks to having a bob?
This one I could handle, I was sure.
Short hair can be fun and still versatile, I wrote. It’s a great way to mix up your look. And the best part? If you don’t like it, it’ll always grow out again. We say take the plunge and go for it!
I turned to the next question.
My parents are dragging me to a charity dinner in Boston Friday after school—formal. My dress is pretty backless. Should I wear my shoulder-length hair up or down?
I wondered who that was. I wished I could see her hair and dress and possibly offer to style her myself. I wrote up my answer—I thought she should definitely wear it up, maybe even to the side a bit. It would make any backless dress look even more dramatic.
Since the girls made it clear they were over the project, I decided to take the answers to the salon myself and get Violet to look at them. I walked out of my room and went to find Dad to let him know. No surprise; he was in the kitchen.
“Hey, girl,” he said. “I was thinking—comfort food and a movie tonight. What do you think? We could watch one those action movies your mom hates.”
My first thought was of what I wanted to do for the blog. But looking at Dad with a counter full of cheeses and pasta, I didn’t want to let him down.
“What are you making?” I asked.
“Mac and cheese,” he said. “With four cheeses. What do you say? We got a date?”
I looked at my dad there in the kitchen, already working hard to have a good evening with his daughter. With that plus a mound of cheese, how could a girl say no?
“If I get to pick the movie and if you add bacon to the mac and cheese, then you’ve got a date,” I said.
He picked up a package and held it up to me. “Hickory-smoked okay with you?”
Dad always knew just what to do. Now I totally understood why Mom relied on him for comfort when she felt stressed—it totally worked.
He diced up some cheese and said, “I got a look at your room earlier. Looks like there was a minor explosion in there.”
I leaned on the counter and said, “Our school project. It’s just a lot of work but I want to do really well on it.”
“If there’s one thing I know about you, it’s that you are your mother’s daughter.”
“What do you mean?” I asked, taking a small piece of cheese and popping it in my mouth.
“I mean,” he said, “that when you find something you love, you become totally focused on it.”
“If I don’t do well on this project,” I said, “I’ll probably quit the styling biz.”
“That’s what I mean,” he said. “Just make sure that you don’t lose focus on the bigger picture.”
“Focus is all I have,” I said. The site was all I thought about. “You’ve seen my room.”
“I know, honey,” he said, looking up at me. “But that’s what worries me. Your singular focus. The site is all you’ve thought about for over a week now. You hardly seemed to notice that your mother left town.”
I looked back into my dad’s soft brown eyes, feeling like I’d just been sucker punched. “That’s not true. I noticed.” She was the one who cleared our hair answers before she left.
“Mickey, I know how your mom is. And I know how you are. Do you realize how similar the two of you are?”
“I want to be just like her,” I said. Ever since I got the Barbie Princess Styling Head for my fourth birthday, they both knew I wanted to follow in Mom’s footsteps.
“Sometimes it’s good to take a step back, though. Step away from your project and do something else. It might help you see things more clearly. That’s just my opinion.” He winked, then picked his knife back up and continued dicing, setting aside the fontina cheese and picking up the Gruyère. I may have been my mother’s daughter, but I was also my father’s and had been taught my cheeses well.
“I’m going to head to the salon—I’d already planned to,” I added before he could ask me if I’d listened to anything he said. “I’ll stop on the way home and pick out a movie. Okay?”
I thought about what Dad said as I walked to the salon. I knew what he was saying and that he was just trying to look out for me, but another part of me couldn’t let go. The finish line was so close. Over the weekend I could decide if I really wanted to keep the site going—either on my own or with the girls.
The salon was packed as usual and Violet was busier than normal since she was taking over for Mom. I read her the new questions and answers as she gave a woman a blowout.
“Don’t you think there are, like, a million ways to wear short hair?” I asked Violet as she smoothed her round brush down the woman’s hair, dryer blasting in her other hand.
“Yes, of course,” she said. “I like that you’re encouraging her to shake it up. Part to the right or left?” she asked her client.
“Left, thanks,” the woman said.
“Did your sister tell you about the slick gel she bought last week?”
“Thanks, Violet,” I said, because she was clearly more into her pleasing her client than chatting it up with me. I totally understood—work came first. Just as I turned to leave, I noticed that the client wore a red satin scarf wrapped around her wrist as a bracelet. I gathered myself, taking a deep breath. Was it possible that even adults were taking advice from Cara as well? Were they seeing the site, too?
I used Mom’s office (with Violet’s permission, of course) to write up the posts, and just before I published them I stopped myself, knowing I needed to share them with my teammates. I sent the new Qs with the As to the girls and asked that if they had any changes (unlikely) to please send them to me tonight.
See! I wasn’t a project hog!
Between dinner (so, so good) and the movie that night, I ran upstairs and checked for responses from the other girls.
Looks good to me, Kristen wrote.
Thanks, Mickey, Lizbeth wrote. I don’t really agree with the backless dress answer, though. She should leave her hair down, especially if it’s just shoulder length. Pulling it up will make her look like a grandma.
Maybe you can give her suggestions on having her hair up or down? Eve wrote.
How come, all of a sudden, everyone was interested in getting involved? Besides, the reader asked which way was best for a backless dress, not to give her ten different style ideas. She could get that from a magazine.
I guess it’s just a matter of opinion, I wrote. Better to just answer her questions straight. Thanks, guys! I guess we’ll all be glad when the project
is over!
I didn’t believe that last part entirely, but at least I would be glad when I didn’t have to worry about my friends worrying about a project I loved and they didn’t.
With that, I started plotting out how to best use the stylists on camera and if Megan would give me Scott the videographer’s number. A week was a lifetime to bring our project to the top, and I intended to do it in the next couple days, no matter what. Even if I had to do it alone.
CHAPTER 19
“So it’s like a French braid but easier, I think,” Giancarlo said, demonstrating on his client, who was going to a fancy dinner with her boyfriend. “You just have to make sure you drop in the piece from the top so that it pulls back, like so.”
I took notes as Giancarlo showed me how to do the side braid he was working on. It began on the girl’s hairline at the front and pulled back on the side before being tucked into her hair just behind her ear.
“Your site is going pretty well, huh?” he asked as he continued twisting and sculpting her hair.
“Yeah, I think so,” I said. “I’m not sure my teammates agree, though.”
“Beauty is brutal,” Giancarlo said. “No one ever said it was glamorous.”
“Ain’t that right.”
Later I was able to catch Violet in Mom’s office.
“How’re things going with Mom gone?” I asked.
“Busy,” she said, keeping her eyes on the monitor. “Actually, like, very busy. I am in no way, shape, or form saying that this has anything to do with your mom being gone, but I think business is actually up.”
“Really?”
“Yeah,” she said. “Lots of minor emergencies. Like all the young girls in town have taken a lesson in ugly.”
“What do you mean?”
She turned to face me in the doorway. “I mean, like earlier today. This poor girl came in with the worst cut—a really short bob, which is fine, but she had curly hair. When she chopped it off, the rest of her hair bounced up with it, making it about two inches shorter than she wanted and giving her a big frizzball head.”
dos and Don'ts Page 11